


Biddy's Other Secret

by Sangerin



Category: Abbey Girls - Oxenham
Genre: F/F, Special Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-13
Updated: 2008-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 21:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangerin/pseuds/Sangerin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She packed her bags and left Lyons, the only plan in her head to go to Annecy where she had been so happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Biddy's Other Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notathing (iamisaac)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/gifts).



> Set around "Biddy's Secret". Spelling of placenames (such as Lyon) as in the books (ie, Lyons). Thanks to [](http://charis-kalos.livejournal.com/profile)[**charis_kalos**](http://charis-kalos.livejournal.com/) for beta-reading.
> 
> For [](http://sabethea.livejournal.com/profile)[**sabethea**](http://sabethea.livejournal.com/) on her birthday, with much love. (Dreadful title, I know. Sorry!)

'Oh, what a dreadful mess I'm in,' said Bridget Verdier - once Biddy Devine - to herself as she stepped off the train at the Annecy station. She collected her bag - a rather large case - from the Porter and, in the rapid French of which she was quite proud, arranged for it to be stored at the station until she came back to call for it. Then, looking a little uncertain, she stepped out of the station into the streets of Annecy.

She had been there once before, on holiday with her employers, in happier times. The town was familiar to her, and she remembered it as peaceful and picturesque. The mountains of the Haute-Savoie loomed over her, the peaks still capped with snow although in Annecy itself snow had not been seen for a month. Although she had little idea where to go or where she would sleep that night, it was the peace of Annecy that Biddy had remembered when she had fled from Lyons, desperate to escape the situation in which she had found herself.

She had been the English clerk to a large French silk manufacturer in Lyons, good at her job, and liked a great deal by her employers. She had been liked even more by the nephew of M. Verdier, and Biddy, who could see the advantage of marrying into the Verdier family, had not objected to Claude's advances, once his intentions had been made clear. But Claude and Biddy had married in secret, and he had left Biddy to return to Lyons and break the news to the family alone, while he went searching for work in another part of the country.

It had been a horrible time. Biddy had never dreamed that Etienne, Claude's cousin and M. Verdier's son, had also hoped to marry her. When she returned to Lyons alone and told Monsieur and his son that she was part of their family, she had not expected Etienne to congratulate her stiffly and walk out of the room, nor for Monsieur to do all he could to overturn the marriage. In addition, the man who had been so friendly and supportive during Biddy's many years with the firm had become silent in her presence, and Biddy soon realised that it was not possible to continue working with M. Verdier until Claude sent for her, as they had originally planned.

So she had packed her bags and left Lyons, the only plan in her head to go to Annecy where she had been so happy, and to try to find a position in an office that would keep her until her husband sent for her and they could be together again.

Biddy was confident in her skills and, as she had been living in France for many years her French was almost as good as if she had been French-born. Although Annecy was small, she was sure she could find someone in need of a bookkeeper or secretary, and if they needed someone who could speak English, so much the better.

Now that she was in Annecy, however, the task before her seemed harder. Biddy had plenty of courage, but walking into an office or shop to inquire whether there was need for a clerk or secretary repelled her, as it seemed too much like begging. For an hour she wandered through Annecy, and then walked out to the lake shore to remind herself of its beauty and the reason she had chosen the place. She told herself that after lunch she would indeed approach some of the offices that she had seen during her morning's walk. She had a little money, so she could afford to find herself a room in a pension for the night if necessary, and continue to pursue a position the next day. However, she would prefer to have everything settled as quickly as possible, and she knew well that it was better not to put such ventures off.

She found a small and pleasant café with a small garden, and took her place at a table. The girl who was serving customers hurried over to Biddy. 'I'm sorry, Madame, but I may be a little time.'

'I understand, Mademoiselle,' replied Biddy, and the girl hurried away. Biddy looked around her, noting that the garden tables were more than half occupied, and that those inside were all full. Only the one girl seemed to be looking after all the tables, and she looked harried. When she came back to Biddy's table to take her order, she heaved a sigh, and Biddy smiled gently.

'You are busy, Mademoiselle?'

'Very, Madame. There is usually another girl to help me.'

'Would I do?'

'Pardon, Madame?'

'Could I take her place for the rest of the afternoon? I'd be happy to.'

'But, Madame!'

'You're in a difficult place,' said Biddy, 'And I've nothing that must be done today. I've just come to Annecy to look for office work.'

'Let me fetch you some lunch, Madame, and I will talk to my mother. What do you wish?'

'An omelette and coffee will be fine, thank you. And may I ask your name?'

'I am Pernet. Annette Pernet. And you, Madame? My mother will wish to know.'

Suddenly in a quandary, Biddy hesitated. The Verdiers, with their big house up on the hill, were known in Annecy, and until Claude sent for her she did not want Monsieur and Etienne to be able to find her. Neither did she want her sister back in England to be able to trace her, for she hadn't told her sister that she was to marry, and both Mary and those with whom Mary lived would be bitterly disappointed in her. She needed a new name, but she had no time at all to think of one.

'Bidet,' she said, her own name, in a French variation, being the only thing that came to mind. 'Madame Bidet.'

 

~*~

 

Although she hadn't meant to stay with the Pernet's, she was still with them when the summer season was over. Madame Pernet had needed some convincing to allow the English girl to help Annette in the café that first afternoon, but Annette was so worn out by the work that she had little option but to accept Biddy's offer. That evening once the customers were gone, Annette, Madame and Biddy had sat at one of the tables to drink their coffee.

'Annette tells me you are looking for work?'

'Yes, Madame. I've been a clerk and secretary at a firm in… Marseilles, but I was recently married. My husband will send for me shortly, but until then, I thought I might live and work here in Annecy. It is such a beautiful part of France.'

'You are English, yes?'

'I've been in France for many years.'

'Your accent is very good,' Madame assured her. 'Annette and I, we wondered �" we could use your help here for a time. We can offer you a room upstairs, and a little money, although not much. It is not office work…'

'Oh, but thank you, Madame!' replied Biddy. 'It should not be for long, and I would enjoy it very much.'

'So will we,' added Annette, who had worked well with Biddy during the afternoon. 'Are your bags at a pension?'

'Oh, gracious,' exclaimed Biddy in English, before speaking once again in French. 'They are still at the station. I had hoped to send for them once I knew where I was to stay.'

'You shall stay with us,' said Madame firmly. 'Annette will go to the station and arrange for your bags to be brought here.'

'There is only one bag,' explained Biddy, 'but it is very large.'

'Do not worry, Madame,' said Annette. 'I will assuredly not carry it myself.'

As time went on it became clear that Biddy should not move on unless it because absolutely necessary, and no word came from Claude, although she had written to him with important news. Madame Pernet and her daughter had some whispered conversations when Biddy was doing the marketing (with a boy sent along to carry the baskets) or after Biddy had gone to bed. Biddy herself tried to be happy, but she was realising that she didn't miss her husband at all. She missed her sister and her friends back in England, she missed the friends she had left behind her in Lyons, and she realised with a shock that she missed Etienne Verdier. She did not miss Claude, and she was unhappy about what her future held, whether Claude sent for her, or not.

In late March, a letter arrived at the café from Biddy's friend Elise in Lyons. She was the only one who knew where Biddy was, and she sent on all of Biddy's mail. Biddy was, by this stage, doing very little work in the café, although she had taken over the task of keeping the account books from Madame Pernet, as it was work she could do while sitting down at a table in the corner. Annette brought in the letters, and Biddy, upon opening the letter from Elise, fell upon a second letter contained within the first with a cry.

'Excuse me, Madame,' she said quickly to Madame Pernet as she closed her books and gathered them together. 'I must go read this…' and she left the café and climbed the stairs to her room.

'The husband?' asked Annette of her mother.

'Perhaps,' replied Madame. 'Annette, we have customers,' she reminded her daughter, and they turned to the work of the day.

Upstairs, Biddy had finished reading the letter and had flung it away, and now sat in the window looking out with unseeing eyes. It was over. Claude was in South America, and had told her not to think of following him. They had had a jolly time together, he wrote, but that was all done now, and he would always remember her with fondness.

'Oh, you stupid, heartless boy,' Biddy said to herself. 'He knows what he's done, and doesn't care a scrap! And I'm married to him, and that can't be undone, any more than the other. I'll be bound to him forever even though he doesn't want me at all. Oh!' she exclaimed, and finally began to cry.

The crying and her exhaustion and the finality of Claude's letter made her ill, and within an hour she was calling desperately for Annette. For the rest of the day the café was shut and a doctor and nurse both summoned, and Annette �" who was kept downstairs by her mother �" went about the kitchen with tight lips and a nervous disposition. She started each time there was a noise from upstairs, until finally, late that night when she was almost asleep, she heard the lusty cries of a new-born baby, at which Annette made the sign of the cross.

The next morning, although Biddy was still terribly weak, Annette was permitted to peer in at the very tiny baby wrapped up in a blanket and placed in a basket by the side of Biddy's bed.

'Do you know what you will call her, Madame?' asked Annette softly.

Madame Pernet spoke before Biddy could answer. 'Madame Bidet may need to wait for word from her husband before such a decision is made. Also, she is Protestant,' she explained to Annette, 'and such children are not christened so early as our Catholic babies. Now, leave Madame to rest, Annette,' and Annette crept from the room.

'Would you like me to send a wire to your husband?' asked Madame Pernet.

Biddy turned her head away from Madame and didn't answer.

'Very well,' Madame said softly. 'I have set a bell here, by your bed, and you must ring if you or the baby require anything and we are not here. I will come back soon,' she said, and she left Biddy alone with her daughter.

Annette's question had given Biddy something to think about. No matter how unwelcome her coming had been, Biddy's daughter needed a name, and now that Claude would not be coming back, the decision was hers entirely. She must, of course, be named for Biddy's sister, but as Biddy lay in bed looking out across the rooftops of Annecy, another name came to her mind: her greatest friend in England, who was a girl of Italian background, Madalena di Ravarati. Biddy would name her daughter for the two most important women in her life: Marie for her sister Mary, and Madelon for Madalena, whom they had all called Maid or Maidlin.

'Marie Madelon,' she whispered to the sleeping baby. 'You have a name now, baby,' she told her daughter.

Reminded by these thoughts of the people at home, who still thought her happily working in Lyons for the Verdiers, Biddy began again to cry. She ached for her sister to be there to look after her, although she feared disappointing Mary above all other things, and a secret French marriage that had turned out to be worthless and a newborn baby daughter would disappoint Mary grievously. She wished for the terribly capable Rosamund, Maidlin's great friend and ally, who had looked after Maidlin while they had both been growing up at the Abbey where Biddy's sister lived. And she wished for Maidlin, although she wasn't half as capable as Rosamund, she was so loving and sweet that Biddy longed for the sight of her. Head filled with these thoughts, Biddy's tears ran faster.

Madame Pernet came in. 'No, no, Madame! You musn't cry, it is bad for your poor daughter. You must rest and be calm, petite!' She looked at the envelope she held in her hand, and set it aside. 'Please, cease crying. You will upset the baby.'

Biddy wiped the tears away slowly. 'Pardon, Madame. But I am so far from home.'

Madame picked up the envelope and handed it to her. 'I do not know if this will help you, but a telegram has arrived, sent on from Lyons. A Ravarati wishes to meet you between Paris and Lyons and stay the night next Thursday.' Madame looked at Biddy curiously.

'Ravarati!' said Biddy. 'Maidlin!' Warned by Madame, she managed not to cry again. 'Oh, how I long to see her,' she said. 'Madame, Mademoiselle di Ravarati is a friend of mine from England, from where I grew up. She would be on her way to Italy �" she usually visits her Italian family at this time of year. Would it be too much trouble…'

'Not at all!' exclaimed Madame. 'And I shall send Annette to meet Mademoiselle at Aix and bring her here. Ah, petite, it will be good for you to have the support of someone from home!'

'It will be good to see Maidlin again,' said Biddy weakly, and that night she slept a little better.

~*~

 

Maid had been with Biddy and the Pernet's for ten days before Biddy recovered enough strength and determination to dress and sit in a chair by the window. But those ten days had stirred up Biddy until she almost didn't recognise herself.

Biddy and Maidlin and Rosamund had been fast friends, back in the days when Jen Robins had 'adopted' Biddy and her sister Mary, and brightened their bleak lives in the poky London flat. But there had always been something a little bit more about the relationship between Biddy and Maidlin that simply wasn't present between Biddy and Rosamund. Biddy was drawn to the younger girl with her dark Italian beauty, the shyness that kept Maid in the background, the grace of her movements and the gentleness of her demeanour.

The Devine sisters (as well as their Cousin Ruth) had been thoroughly adopted by the Abbey people, and Maid and Biddy and Rosamund had enjoyed many weekends and holidays together. Biddy had quickly grown to prefer the two Abbey girls to any of her colleagues at her London secretarial college, but she �" not prone to thinking in any depth about feelings or emotions or the more serious things of life �" had not thought very hard about the fellow-feeling that had sprung up between herself and Maidlin, but that did not quite exist with Rosamund.

The truth was, however, that after Mary, Maidlin meant the most of anyone in the world to Biddy. That it had been Maidlin who arrived in Annecy had seemed a multiple blessing. Maidlin, Biddy had been sure, would never be able to insist that Biddy return to England and face her sister and the other Abbey people. Maid, Biddy had thought, would pet and console her, be sweet to her baby, and fall in happily with her ideas to leave Marie Madelon to be raised by Madame Pernet while Biddy sought a new position by which to earn the money for Marie Madelon's keep.

Yet she had been surprised by how capable and determined Maid was. Maid took charge of Biddy; began to buck Biddy up in a way that neither Madame Pernet nor Annette could ever have hoped to do. Maid was responsible and firm; almost as efficient as Rosamund. There were still moments of the shyness that had plagued Maidlin when Biddy had first known her: the shyness that had intrigued Biddy and infuriated Rosamund, but there was strength, too. A strength that refused to allow Biddy to continue to deceive Mary �" although Maidlin thought that they must return to England and break the news in person, rather than by letter. A strength that insisted that Marie Madelon should be raised by her own mother, rather than by the Pernet's. And that kind thoughtfulness that Biddy had always admired and rather adored, for Maidlin refused to go back on their long-held plan that Biddy should become Maid's secretary.

Biddy was bemusedly grateful to Maid for coming in and sorting everything out so definitely. And yet, as the time for them to go back to England approached, she remained nervous of her reception. Despite all Maid's support, Biddy herself was still not certain that she ever could ever take her intended place as Maid's secretary: Joy Marchwood would never agree. Her future, which had been so clear until these last twelve months, was still murky before her. Thankfully, though, Maidlin would be at her side.

 

~*~

 

'I don't think you'll ever be my secretary, Biddy dear!' said Maidlin, with her arms around Biddy. The two girls had been reading the letter just arrived from Etienne Verdier, telling Biddy of her husband's death. It was a terribly kind letter, assuring Biddy of his interest in the child of his dead cousin, and that he wanted to remain friends with Biddy herself. It was nothing like the short, sharp notes Biddy had received from him during those dark days in Lyons after the marriage had been announced, and Maidlin, ever the romantic, was certain that M. Etienne would some day carry Biddy back to France, and had told Biddy so.

Biddy looked at Maidlin's shining face, and her happiness for the joy she saw for Biddy in the future, and couldn't help but sigh. Returning to France would mean leaving Maidlin, and after these last few weeks, Biddy couldn't image life without Maid.

'Biddy, dear,' said Maidlin, 'it won't be very long. I know a year or two seems forever, but you'll stay here in the Abbey, and visit with Rosamund, and we'll all pamper and spoil little Marie Madelon' �" Maidlin was not yet reconciled to the change of name of her goddaughter �" 'and the time will fly by.'

'Oh, Maid, I know it will,' said Biddy sadly.

'Will you come outside again, dear?' said Maid, kindly. 'Rosamund is here, and we'll send for tea, no matter whether it's time for it or not.'

Biddy laughed gently. 'And my Madelon Marie is out there, too �" being simply eaten up in adoration by Rosamund and the others. Yes, Maid, I'll come.' Smiling, she linked her arm with Maid's and joined the others on the terrace.

'Mary?' Biddy asked one afternoon a few weeks later, while she was sitting on the terrace alone with her sister, Madelon Marie's cradle beside her. 'Do you remember Amy Prittle?'

'That girl from my old office in London who felt so much for me? Of course I remember her. We sent her out to you in France.'

'A year or two ago I would have described her as a "silly little thing",' admitted Biddy. 'But she was a good worker nonetheless. And we were good friends. She wasn't nearly as silly in France as she was in London.'

'Why ever did you want to speak about Amy?'

'It's difficult, Mary,' said Biddy. 'This isn't the sort of thing one speaks of. But… Amy loved you, didn't she?'

Mary blushed. 'I think she did. I never wanted to be unkind to her…'

'It's a different sort of love, though,' said Biddy. 'Than friendship or being sisters. Deeper?'

'Yes. But it's not healthy, Biddy.'

'I know.'

'You love Maid, don't you?' Mary asked her.

'Yes,' said Biddy, very low. 'I never wanted to. Not in the way that I do. But Mary…'

'It happens,' replied Mary. 'I do understand, Biddy. Believe me I do.'

'Truly?'

'Although I never felt about Amy the way she felt about me, I could understand her feeling. I didn't understand why she chose me, but then, does anyone ever understand that?'

'Oh, Mary.'

'But I meant what I said, Biddy. It's not healthy, that sort of unreturnable love. If you can set it aside, turn it into something useful: a real, deep friendship between you and Maid that can last �" that's how best to deal with it,' said Mary. 'Longing for something you will never have simply makes it worse.'

'I can't help but wish, Mary.'

'You must stop that particular wish,' she replied. 'You really must, for your own sake.'

'Besides,' said Biddy, with a flash of understanding �" I suppose if it were anyone for Maidie, it would have been Joy.'

Mary smiled sadly at her sister. 'I think you are right: and Joy will never see it, any more than Maidlin will see how you feel.'

'But you understood how Amy felt,' said Biddy, as Madelon Marie waved her tiny fists in the air.

Mary was silent for a moment. Then she spoke. 'Jen tells me that I write well because I can get inside other people's heads easily. Perhaps that meant I could understand Amy more easily, when other people would have dismissed her. Jen did, you know.'

'Jen?' exclaimed Biddy. 'That's not like her.'

'No,' said Mary. 'Amy's married now, you know,' she added softly.

Biddy nodded. 'She was planning the wedding when she left the Verdiers.'

'And Monsieur Etienne seems to like you very much, Biddy,' said Mary, who had been shown the letter that had arrived from old M. Verdier's son.

'I like him very much,' replied Biddy. 'And Maidlin is sure that he still cares for me.'

'You would be very happy, I believe.'

'It will mean leaving Maid, and the Abbey, and you,' said Biddy. 'And it will really be leaving you, this time.'

Mary took her sister's hands in her own. 'All I ask is that you listen to what I said about putting your love to better use. And think of your little girl. Doesn't she deserve a father who will love her? Think of the poor twinnies, growing up without a father, and never quite understanding why. And you will always have Maidlin's friendship: of that I'm certain.'

Biddy took one hand away to wipe a tear. 'I have turned into a leaky cistern lately. I'm sorry, Mary.'

'You dear thing, you're my sister. I'm still sorry that I wasn't there to help you through this terrible time that you've had.'

'It was my own fault.'

'I'm glad you told me about Maid, though,' Mary said, without contradicting Biddy's reply. 'I don't want there to be things you feel you can't tell me.'

'Mary, dear, you are a brick,' said Biddy, embracing her sister. They were usually so undemonstrative that Mary felt all the meaning that could be part of the gesture.

'Just promise me that, whatever you do, you will look after Madelon Marie?' said Mary as they parted. She could see Jen coming across the lawn from the Manor, and Maidlin and Joy would join them all soon for tea.

'Of course I'll look after her,' said Biddy. 'She's the most precious thing I could possibly have.'


End file.
